


from then, until now

by thefateofivalice



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, REALLY not saucy at all but if people want I will go saucy in the future lmao, bed sharing, god I just [clenches fists] really love the crystal exarch, they might hold a hand in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefateofivalice/pseuds/thefateofivalice
Summary: I've played Final Fantasy since the patch release of Leviathan. I've always had so, so many feelings about the Crystal Tower arc, and this is basically my love letter to that chain, along with Shadowbringers.A few parts may not make sense, as they're cameos and shoutouts to other members of my long-standing free company, The Riskbreakers. This was also written as a lead-in to a roleplay arc between me and a few friends, but with all of the excitement around the Crystal Exarch and G'raha Tia, I honestly couldn't help myself. I had so, so much fun with this piece, and my only hope is that it makes someone as excited about it as I was while writing.





	from then, until now

**Author's Note:**

> He watches, his heart twisting, as she vows to die on the battlefield. As a small, Au Ra woman whips her hand across A’zaela’s face for daring to sacrifice herself so. He is awake for the entirety of that arc, watching his beloved friend sell her soul for power. 
> 
> Power she had, but refused to see. 
> 
> -
> 
> This story is more about G'raha Tia than it is A'zaela, but knowing a few things about her may help:
> 
> -A'zaela is an amnesiac.  
> -The Riskbreakers are a militant Free Company similar to the Ala Mhigan Resistance: Their goal is to remove Garlean occupation from Eorzea and beyond. A'zaela joined the FC after remembering that the Garleans were the ones who slaughtered her sister in front of her.  
> -I was very young when I started writing A'zaela, (I'm over 18 now, lol) and I tried very hard to stay true to her character despite knowing how cringy it can be to read some of her dialogue. I am very sorry for all of the ellipses, but I made a point to explain that she just talks strangely.

“Then tomorrow we head into the Crystal Tower,” G’raha says confidently. Seeing the excitement written on his face, A’zaela shoots a look over to Rammbroes, who’s looking back at her knowingly. She smiles at him, a laugh bubbling up in her chest. 

“What?” G’raha asks, eyes flicking back and forth between them. “Was there something funny about what I said?”

“No,” Rammbroes says. “You just looked like a fool, is all.” 

“A fool excited to make history is no fool at all,” G’raha retorts. 

Knowing that her part is done until the other adventurers arrive, A’zaela decides to make a swift exit while the two of them bicker. They won’t notice for some time, and she knew better than to wait around to inform someone where she was headed. Everyone was busy enough without having her whereabouts to worry about. And typically, she was quiet enough to not garner a lot of attention in the first place. 

Mor Dhona quickly became a subject of fascination for her. She did not feel the curl of aether around her in most places around Eorzea, but here she could feel it settle on her skin and stick to her like a wet cloth. Though the air was thick, her head was clear and filled with a sense of adventure and curiosity. She uses her final hours of freedom to walk around the crystallized zone, resisting the urge to remove her shoes to feel the cool aether on her feet. 

She walks along the edge of Silvertear Lake, avoiding the Lake Cobras with practiced ease. Finally, she settles down on a jagged piece of land that points out toward the water and stares out into the expansive lake, eyes drawn to the corpse of the dragon in the middle of it all. 

“So this is where our warrior runs off to whenever she tires of us?” 

The familiar voice sends a jolt through her, and she turns to see G’raha standing behind her, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh...s-sorry,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you...need me?” 

She knows how frustrating it must be for people to talk to her. She hadn’t spoken much in the year after she’d lost her memories — hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t found a reason to. Now that time had passed, she has found her voice again, but she was too anxious to use it. She often marveled at how patient people were with her. Ashelia. G’raha. Edge. Despite her stammer and drawn out sentences, no one ever seemed truly upset with her. That patience was something she wasn’t used to, having spent a good measure of time in Ul’dah and Gridania before she joined the Riskbreakers. 

“Not particularly,” G’raha says, taking a few steps closer so he was standing beside her. “I had thought to go over the plan once more, but our lovely roegadyn friend all but begged to be spared a recount of the details.” 

She smiles at that, nodding once. At first it had been hard to understand that them bickering back and forth had been a sign of friendship, not annoyance. Now, it would almost be strange to see them get along. 

Her eyes trail off to the lake again, focusing on the dragon. G’raha follows her gaze. 

“What brings you to this particular spot?” He asks, nudging her to speak. He starts to ask if she knows what actually lays in the middle of Silvertear Lake — the corpse of Midgardsormr — but stops himself. For once, he realizes that he doesn’t want to hear himself talk. He wants to hear  _ her _ talk. 

“Um...” she begins, struggling to find a way to explain in as little words possible. 

Her way of speech was the first thing G’raha noticed about her. Everything came from her lips slowly, as though she thought about each word before she said it. And by the look of her furrowed brows and pursed mouth, he could assume that was exactly the case. 

When he’d first met her he’d thought to himself,  _ ‘Is this really the girl who helped put down Gaius Van Baelsar?’ _

“I’m a...dragoon. The dragon there...fascinates me. So does...the lake. Everything about Mor Dhona.” 

She runs a hand through her hair, currently cut short with a simple white headband on the top of her head. Her ears are bent back; something she often does when she’s lost in thought, he realizes. 

“I—ah...heard stories about him...the dragon. He—“ her head snaps up, and she locks on to him. No, not him—something behind him—

It’s over in seconds. In a flash, A’zaela has her lance in hand, and she’s leaping high above him to land on top of an angry cobra that had noticed them. She’s pierced it through the middle, splitting it in half -- an accuracy that shouldn’t even be possible. 

When she turns back to him, her eyes are wide with worry.

“Are you...hurt?” 

G’raha shakes his head, still staring at the giant snake. 

It was then that he made a vow to never underestimate her again. 

-

One of the first things A’zaela noticed about G’raha (besides his penchant for over explaining and his mysterious inclination towards the Crystal Tower) was that when he blushed, his entire face turned the color of his hair. 

She found it endearing. 

“No no, this isn’t right,” he says, sounding as flustered as he looks. “We must have another tent. A’zaela, you didn’t pack a tent?”

She looks down and shakes her head. 

“I...usually sleep...on the ground.” 

She’s always lived with her life on her back. A tent was simply too much to carry. 

He realizes this quickly and swallows. 

“Well, it isn’t an issue. I can go and sleep in Rammbroes’ tent, and you can take mine—“

“Wait,” she says, grabbing his wrist before he can leave. Despite her show of strength earlier, her touch is gentle, shockingly so. He can take his hand away if he wanted, but the urgency in her touch keeps him from even considering it. 

“I...don’t mind sharing. I-if you mind, I...can sleep...outside. Rammbroes is...already asleep.” 

She’s right. He can hear the other man snoring from here. It was a wonder none of the Gigas surrounding the area weren’t stampeding toward them as they spoke. 

A’zaela watches his face turn that pretty shade of red as he shakes his head. 

“No, of course I don’t mind. I-I just thought, you being our esteemed guest and all...”

“I’ll be fine,” she reassures him. “Even if...I sleep on the ground.” 

“Absolutely not,” he says. He opens the tent and motions for her to climb in. It’s big enough for the two of them, but it would be tight. G’raha has a sinking feeling that Rammbroes planned this, and if that was the case, he would pay for it dearly later. 

“No warrior....no-- no  _ friend _ of mine will be sleeping out on the ground if I have anything to say about it.”

She looks up at him, surprise shimmering in her eyes. Her mouth hangs open for a moment before she looks away and climbs into his tent. 

Was it truly so shocking to be called a friend? Perhaps it was a bit too soon - but they had been working together now for at least a week. It didn’t seem so strange to _him_ to consider her a friend, at least. Their first meeting might have put her off to him, what with the few trials he put her through to collect the Aethersand. But she had never mentioned that it had bothered her. In fact, he’d been under the impression that she’d had just as much fun as he did. 

He realizes much later that she was shocked because she had very little people at that point in her life to consider a friend. And he was one of the first to outwardly claim it. 

Minutes later they’re both settled in. He had initially worried about the size of the tent, but A’zaela takes up so little space that it’s like she isn’t even there. She curls up, not unlike an actual cat, her knees up to her chest and her tail curved around her. She isn’t using a blanket, despite the chill of Mor Dhona’s night. 

“Do you need something to cover yourself with?” He asks. He hadn’t brought more than the one he was using, but he would give it to her if she needed.

“No,” she murmurs. She holds out her hand. Her eyes are shut, and for a moment he doesn’t think anything of it. Then she opens one eye and looks up at him. Wiggles her fingers. Oh. She wants him to grab her hand. 

He puts his hand on top of hers. She’s warm to the touch—strangely so, considering the temperature. 

“The cold doesn’t bother me much,” she says simply. Then she retracts her hand and closes her eye again. 

Silence falls over them as A’zaela falls asleep. Her descent into sleep is surprisingly fast, but it works just as well for him. She isn’t disturbed by the light, so he keeps it on to study some more pages on the legacy of Allag. He finds himself thinking again that it’s strangely like she isn’t there at all. 

Except she is, and no matter how far away she is, he can’t stop thinking about her. His eyes wander from the page he was on to watch her chest rise and fall as she breathes. His ears twitch whenever he hears her shuffle around. He’s shared rooms with people before, and he can’t for the life of him understand why he’s so bothered now. 

He chalks it up to being excited about the upcoming expedition. He closes his journal, turns off the light and closes his eyes, all while trying to forget that he has a well-renowned warrior sharing his tent. 

-

He knows the exact second she’s finished inside of the Crystal Tower. 

It’s like a cold hand grips his heart. It’s painful - quick and sharp - and then it’s gone, leaving only the distant memory. Then, he was watching her and her allies leave the tower, and the pain was forgotten entirely. He could only jump and put his fist in the air, whooping with excitement. 

His life’s work bearing fruit right before his eyes. And the flower that bore the fruit was stumbling toward him. Falling. 

A’zaela’s knees hit the pavement in a sickening crunch. 

Both G’raha and Cid sprint toward her, but Cid reaches her first. A total of six healers had gone into the Crystal Tower with them, but none of them were able to conjure a single spell more. Every adventurer looked rough. No casualties — but no one was looking good, either. 

“She took a lot of hits,” a roegadyn woman, Livvy Ahtynwyb says. “It was so chaotic in there. We cleared out everything we could, but not everything went to plan.” 

“We’ll take her back to The Rising Stones,” G’raha says quickly. “Someone there can heal her, I’m certain.”

She reaches out and grabs a hold of the first hand she can see, which turns out to be his. She shakes her head, her breath still coming out too heavily for her to make a cohesive sentence. 

Livvy kneels down beside her, putting her hand on A’zaela’s back. 

“Should I get a chocobo to take you back to the Riskbreakers?” she asks. “I can have Ashelia waiting for your arrival.” 

“No,” she whispers. “Just...here. Just...”

A’zaela lets go of G’raha’s hand and starts to remove her armor. She gets her helmet off first, and her hair comes out in a sticky, sweaty mess. Her face is ruddy and bruised, with a gash on her lip that looks like she put her teeth through it. 

Her gauntlets come off next, and she throws them off unceremoniously, her fingers running over her arms afterward. Her movements are fast, jerky, as though she itched everywhere but couldn’t find the best place to scratch. 

He’d later come to recognize that as a nervous tic of hers. 

“Just...make sure the others are okay,” she manages. “Some… are worse off.” 

Cid, Livvy and G’raha all exchange worried glances, but in the end agree that that’s what must be done. They set off to find the other warriors, handing out potions and elixirs as necessary. 

By the time G’raha starts looking for A’zaela, she is already gone, back at their camp. She sits against a tree, staring out at the world around her, fondly recalling all of the new memories she had just made. 

The inside of the tower hadn’t been what she’d expected, but it was beautiful. The orange crystals painting the walls, the stunning architecture that only grew more astonishing the further in they had gone. 

She smiles. A’zaela Linh, behemoth-slayer. She liked the sound of that. 

Though she is battered, bloody and bruised, she is happy. And she can’t wait to tell someone about it.

-

Months pass before they’re ready to take on Syrcus Tower, and in that time, she had grown stronger. 

She made a few trips to speak with Rammbroes, Cid and the Ironworks during her free time, but she always made it a point to speak with G’raha last, giving him a fair length of time to explain his new plan, to delve in to how excited he was. 

And Gods, was he excited. 

He had kept up with her progress as well, of course. It was hard to not hear all of the fighting the Riskbreakers were doing to push Garlean occupation out of Eorzea. So when a good measure of time had passed and she came to visit him again, he wasn’t all that shocked to see that she had changed a bit. 

Her hair was longer now, pulled back into a low ponytail. She stands a little taller, and smiles when she sees him. Though G’raha doesn’t often comment on someone’s appearance, he can’t help but notice that she looks healthier now. Like she’s filled out more. She still wears the glamoured drachen greaves, but otherwise, even her gear was in much better condition. 

“I...haven’t remembered any more about my past,” she admits after he asks. “But I think...I’m getting somewhere.” 

Now, sharing a tent with her had become commonplace. He did not complain, and he didn’t bring any issue toward Rammbroes. She still keeps her distance, but he notices that she doesn’t fall asleep as quickly as she once did. Perhaps he was reading too much into it. 

“...What’s that song you’re humming?” she asks him late one evening. He hadn’t realized he was humming, but once she points it out, he pauses.

“An old Baldesian tune,” he explains cheerfully. “One I learned from childhood.” 

“It’s very pretty,” she says. Her eyes close as she settles into bed beside him. “Perhaps...you could sing it to me one day.”

He goes to reply, but her breathing has already gone shallow, and he knows she won’t hear him. He silently curses himself for thinking that she was having trouble sleeping. 

The next day, he hears her humming the tune around camp — awfully, mind, nothing like it actually sounded — and his heart picks up speed. 

-

“I’m going with you this time,” G’raha says. He already has his bow on his back, and he’s more than prepared for adventure. 

“Oh no you won’t,” Rammbroes says. “We need you out here, boy. Not running off and trying to play hero.”

His words sting, but G’raha doesn’t give up.

“I’m the one with the Royal Eye — I should be the one fighting!” He pouts his cheeks puffing up ridiculously. 

A’zaela gently puts her hand on his shoulder. He softens his expression as he looks over at her. 

“You shouldn’t worry,” she says. “We will be okay. Livvy and I are stronger now.” 

He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t refuse her. So he hangs his head, disappointed, but doesn’t argue further. 

-

Syrcus Tower does turn out to be easier to maneuver than The Labyrinth of the Ancients. Though it takes some time, the group of 24 adventurers comes out weary, but not half as bad as the last time. 

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Ahtyn says, speaking excitedly, her eyes bright like a puppy’s. “There were so many legends in there. Amon, Scylla— and Xande! We fought the emperor himself! We saw his throne room!” 

G’raha was practically vibrating from the news. He aches to enter it himself, to see the halls that carried the Ancients. But his eyes focus on A’zaela, and he puts his excitement on hold for just a moment. As Livvy goes to speak with Cid, he turns to her. 

“You’re smiling,” he points out. 

“It was amazing in there,” she says, mirroring Ahtyn’s excitement. “Terrifying, but...beautiful. The walls were lined with gold, the foundation was bluespirit ore...I don’t know how I know that, but I do. Just...”

Her eyes are wide and shining as she stares up at the magnificent tower. In that moment, he sees her heart, and how full it is from the successful adventure. He always wondered how such a timid girl could stomach this life of violence. Now he knew. Her heart craves exploration, the understanding she felt when she discovered something new. 

And while her thoughts were rising to the heavens with the tower, his heart was falling down, down, down... along with the rest of him. 

-

Many things happen after they clear out Syrcus Tower. They lose Unei, Doga, and Nero to the darkness. G’raha’s allagan blood sings painfully through his veins, distorting his vision and almost causing them to lose the battle. The threat of the Cloud of Darkness looms not only over them, but the whole of Eorzea. And while they plan their foray into the World of Darkness to save their friends, both G’raha and A’zaela struggle with what’s to come. 

She’s torn between duties. She has expeditions planned to enter the Second Coil of Bahamut; her craving for knowledge on the subject of Allag having become insatiable since entering the Labyrinth. Her work for the Riskbreakers looms ever over her head, but she knows that Ashelia will hold nothing against her if she chooses to go elsewhere for a time. Yet she cannot help but miss her home in times like these. 

Then, of course, there was the World of Darkness and NOAH. Needing to be everywhere at once along with feeling that she was helpful nowhere made her heart heavy with fear. 

G’raha sinks deeper into his research. It’s how he copes with the sudden turn of events. Whenever he comes close to a revelation, a sharp pain rings out in his head, hindering his progress. His nights turn into frustrating things, filled with him painfully clutching his right eye, but refusing to stop reading. 

“Um…” A’zaela starts, quietly announcing her presence. He looks up from his book, surprised. He heard that she left hours ago. They all assumed she would be back when they needed her. 

“I brought you something,” she says. In her hands are a phial of eyedrops and an eyepatch, along with what looked to be medicine. He looks down at them curiously, and a small, almost self-deprecating smile forms on his lips. 

“You…” she starts, biting her lip nervously. “Back in the tower. You looked like you had a headache.” 

G’raha chuckles, shaking his head. “That my aches and pains would be so obvious to a warrior who puts herself in danger every day is embarrassing. Did you truly go out and get this for me?” 

“Yes,” she replies simply. “I could see...how upset it made you. I just wanted to help…” 

G’raha takes the medicine and the eyedrops, thanking her for the eyepatch, but knowing it would only hinder his progress sets it aside. As he goes about grabbing a bottle of water to take the medicine, he sets his journal aside as well, wanting to give her his full attention. 

With the plans to head into the World of Darkness still facing some setbacks, he decides to move the topic somewhere else. 

“A’zaela, would you mind going on a short adventure with me?” he asks. She blinks once, startled by his request, but nods. Together they exit his tent and make their way out of camp and toward Silvertear. 

He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he whisked her away, but as they stand out near the lake together, he realizes that he doesn’t mind if they don’t do a single thing. Just being out here with her calms him. Fills him with resolve. Resolve that had admittedly frayed when Unei and Doga had been pulled into the darkness. 

He sits down and leans back on his hands, staring out at the lake. 

“Come, regale me with a tale or two. I hear of your stories from a distance, but never from you.” 

A’zaela doesn’t sit immediately, instead choosing to stand to get a clear look of Silvertear. The wind brushes her hair into her face, and she gently pushes it away. 

“...I don’t really know,” she admits, lips pressed together. “I...never thought of them as my stories. It’s the Riskbreakers’ tale. Ashelia’s. Not mine. I only help.” 

“Tell me of their exploits, then. I’m a historian. I crave first-hand recounts of history.” 

“...Okay.” 

She sits finally, not too far away from him, but not too close either. She looks over at him, eyes roaming his face. 

“Then you should tell me more about you. Your home.” 

G’raha can’t help the surprise he feels. Typically, people ask him to  _ stop  _ talking about where he comes from. It’s what he leads in with.  _ G’raha Tia, Baldesian Scholar, the best archer you’ll ever meet…  _ Things he’s proud of. Having someone ask him to tell them  _ more  _ is…

Well, suffice to say he’s happy about it. 

When A’zaela tells a story, her entire face softens. Her eyes are distant, reliving the memories through her words. Some might consider her storytelling lackluster or hard to follow with how strange she speaks, but he finds himself captivated by her story. Her descriptions of her friends are beautiful. The scenes she tells him are of when the Riskbreakers stormed Castrum Meridianum, and all of the trials they went through to make it out alive. 

Ashelia Riot. Edge Marbrand. Rael Veryd. The way she says their names are reverent, her admiration for them palpable. 

And when they made it out alive, they were heroes. Veritable Warriors of Light in their own right. Though she would never say it, that’s all he could think of. 

When she finishes, she blinks once or twice. Then she brings a hand up to her mouth, as though she can’t believe she just said all that at once. 

Then, when he goes on to tell her of his homeland, he can’t stop the twitch in his fingers that urge him to draw. He can picture the scenes she told him vividly still -- 

Ashelia Riot, pink hair flowing behind her, her axe raised high above her head.

Edge Marbrand, fighting with the wrath of Rhalgr in his fists. 

Rael Veryd --  _ the stronger Dragoon,  _ A’zaela had said -- her armor glinting beautifully in the moonlight. 

Then A’zaela herself. A portrait, perhaps, of the rage and fear that the fight put in her eyes. 

The A’zaela before him tilts her head. “...You stopped talking.” 

G’raha clears his throat. “Ah, apologies. I was simply lost in thought. Now, where did I leave off…?” 

It’s then when A’zaela fully takes in his appearance. The Seeker markings on his face. The blue of his left eye, the red of the right. His mouth…

-

So many things happen after she traverses the World of Darkness. Time has made her memory fuzzy, as it often does after a few years. There are three things she will never forget. 

The first is when the Cloud of Darkness, who she thought she had defeated, reared back for a final blow. She remembers the fear she felt as the blow did not come for her, but her friend. 

The second is the moment G’raha opened his eyes after the attack, revealing that both of them were as red as blood. She remembers her trepidation, then relief upon seeing him unharmed. 

The final thing is what happens after. They tell her to go rest. They tell her that they have succeeded, though not in the way they meant to. She remembers entering G’raha’s tent and finding him gone. 

She remembers flying through Mor Dhona, not feeling any pain from the battle she had just ended. Only fear. Only terror. 

And when she, Cid, Rammbroes and the Ironworks find him, she remembers the resignation on his face. 

He smiles, but she knows better. She knows that there is something else behind it. 

She remembers hearing someone scream as G’raha closes the doors of the Crystal Tower, leaving him locked inside. 

When she finds her throat raw later, she realizes the scream came from her. 

-

G’raha did not lie when he said he was going to sleep. It’s what the tower does to you. It makes you sleep with the rest of its secrets. There were times, however, when he finds that his insatiable thirst for knowledge wakes him up, and keeps him awake. He uses this time accordingly. He finds the Ocular, where most of the secrets lie. He makes this his new home, warding it off to any unwanted visitors that may have survived A’zaela’s onslaught. 

He quickly finds that the mirror in the Ocular can show him things. Anything in the world that he can think of. 

He can only think of the Warrior who had gotten him this far. Who had etched her name in his heart. 

_ Yours is the star that will light my path through history.  _

How right he was. 

He watches her life play out whenever he’s awake. There are times when he falls asleep, and he is devastated when he wakes, finding that he’s missed a year or two of her life. But what he does see is a mixture of pain and pleasure. He hurts when she hurts, he smiles when she does. He gives her as much privacy as possible, only watching when she’s awake and adventuring. He watches her gain allies and lose them, all in the span of a few years. 

He can’t help but think of their final time on Lake Silvertear, and the way she spoke of her friends then. Would his tale be told with the same reverence? 

The Riskbreakers go far. Ishgard, Doma, Ala Mhigo. He misses a lot of what happens during Ishgard, but he believes she takes a lover. He watches her transform from the terrified warrior into one more comfortable in her own skin. No longer does she speak with such hesitation. She surrounds herself with loved ones. She finds her brothers, sisters, and learns of her past. She fights, day in and day out, and becomes exactly what he always saw her as; A hero. 

He watches, his heart twisting, as she vows to die on the battlefield. As a small, Au Ra woman whips her hand across A’zaela’s face for daring to sacrifice herself so. He is awake for the entirety of that arc, watching his beloved friend sell her soul for power. 

Power she had, but refused to see. 

He falls asleep again, and when he wakes, he finds her with child. He does not know how much time has passed, but it does not matter. He watches her look down at the young kit; a heterochromatic girl who bears a striking resemblance to her mother. Though many names of her allies evade him, as he cannot hear a single sound of her adventures, he makes sure to read the lips of those around her, desperate to know the name of her child. 

Her name is Poppy. He does not know the father, but he knows that A’zaela is happy even without him. 

Ever does she stay near Ashelia, even when the Riskbreakers disband. They are no longer friends, but family. Ashelia ends up with three children, and she and Edge live for a very long time together. 

Then, one day, he falls asleep. When he wakes next, the mirror is dark. No matter how much he screams, cries, or slams his fists against it, it will not show him her picture. It will not show him Poppy’s, nor Ashelia’s. 

A’zaela Linh had died, and he did not know how it happened. 

That, he thinks, is the worst part of it all. 

-

He works tirelessly. 100 years after his self-imprisonment, the doors to the Crystal Tower open, and he is almost an entirely different man. 

His memories do not evade him. He remembers exactly what happens from the moment what’s left of the Ironworks enter the tower, but it is much too long of a story to tell, so he will not tell it. All he will say is that the world is in a calamity, and he has the means to save it. 

So G’raha Tia -- no. 

So the Crystal Exarch uses the knowledge he’s gleaned to move the tower. To save the world that she lived in. To save Norvrandt. To do what he promised all those years ago. To fight for the future.

\- 

Then he’s holding a tiny, baby Vii in his arms. 

Lyna is small, but her ears are large. She’ll grow into them. Her parents look on at him excitedly, proud of the world they get to raise their child in. 

He’s reminded of the girl A’zaela held in her arms all those years ago. 

The Exarch has to hand Lyna back over to her parents and return to the Ocular, so that they don’t see the tears spilling down his face. 

-

And so, when the need arises, and his world is in desperate need of a hero, he can think of none other. He could call on any of them -- A’zaela. Ashelia. Livvy. He knows it isn’t his decision to make. That to pull anyone from the Source to the First would have consequences. 

She could refuse. Or she could hate him for taking her away from her home.

He’s prepared to swallow that guilt. 

He'd seen her say the words over and over again, whenever she and Ashelia faced a choice that would change their lives. 

_For those we have lost. For those we can yet save._

And with those words on his lips does the Crystal Exarch invoke her name. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Maybe more to come in the future. Maybe some NSFW if I'm really feeling saucy. I have written a few NSFW pieces in the past between them, but I know it can be weird to read about another person's character x an NPC, so I haven't posted it anywhere. I'm not super interested in writing any readerxNPC either, so I doubt that'll happen. Either way, let me know how you feel about it, the piece, whatever! Some points in the story were just some of my headcanons, like G'raha finding the mirror and watching over her story. 
> 
> You can find me at @thelegendofivalice on tumblr, and if you're interested in more G'raha material specifically, my twitter is @gillspeaks1819.


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